


Break the back of love

by Keiya



Series: magical and miserable [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: A sad, Break Up, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, It's supposed to be a part of the series, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 08:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keiya/pseuds/Keiya
Summary: They were laying there and everything was achey tenderness, gentle touches full of slow despair.





	Break the back of love

**Author's Note:**

> It's supposed to be a part of the series. I'm working on it. It's a backstory.   
> Not beta-read, so please point out any and all mistakes.   
> Title from Placebo's Post Blue, and the song referenced in the text is U said by Lil Peep, because Montparnasse would totally listen to it, lbr.

**[Down on my bended knees I break the back of love for you.]**

They were laying there, in the stale air and grey light, on the rumpled stained sheets, laying and breathing together. Jehan remembers music playing from Parnasse’s laptop. 

They were laying there and everything was achy tenderness, gentle touches full of slow despair. Jehan was tracing one of tattoos on Parnasse’s forearm, and thought about this pale skin that looked so grey, almost metallic in this horrible light, about black lines making it look kinda dirty.    
Saliva in Jehan’s moth was sour, and there was a joint just there, on the plate on the floor next to bed, and maybe if he smoke up this fucking pain inside of him would dull and he’d managed to swallow it. Maybe.    
“You should fucking break up with me,” Parnasse said. He sounded tired, he sounded on the verge of blackout. He turned his head to Jehan and said again. “Break up with me, Je.” 

“Fuck you,” Jehan said, helplessly. 

“We already did like fifteen screaming matches,” Parnasse said, “and I keep expecting you to leave, but you..” He choked up on it, and Jehan thought, stupidly, that at least it wasn’t easy for him. At least It wasn’t…

Sometimes life gets fucked up, some dude’s been singing from the laptop, that’s why we get fucked up, and Jehan thought, no kidding.    
“I can do you sixteenth screaming match, if you wanna,” Parnasse said, and sat up, and there was a bitter smirk on his thin lips, coated with nicotine and weariness and self-destruction. “I want you out of this shit.” 

“Doesn’t my fucking opinion count,” Jehan said, and he had no energy to get angry, and that was a fucking pity.    
“Your opinion is screwed and you’re screwed with it, and you should get bend.” 

Jehan had no idea what was happening with his face, but it probably wasn’t anything good. 

“I will fucking throw you out on the street, if I have to,” Parnasse said, and he would, Jehan knew. He’d bruise Jehan and scream and did some scary shit. He was Parnasse. 

“Why,” Jehan asked, finally feeling - something. Crushed, maybe. Furious. Vulnerable. It was slowly gaping open inside of him. 

Parnasse was silent for a long time and then he said, “I’m gonna feed you to my songs, ‘cause they are thriving on the pain. I  wrote this shit and I realized that it’s fucking truth. I will. So fuck this shit, get out.”

“That’s bullshit.” Jehan said. 

“You’d think so, you fucking butterfly,” Parnasse looked at him, direct and unwavering. “Get out, Je. I decided.”    
And Jehan could see that. Jehan could see that Parnasse was so fucking serious, that week of his absence won’t do it this time, that Parnasse will make him leave again and again, until Jehan will give it up. 

It was officially broken, and Parnasse was planning on making it to stay this way. 

So Jehan got up and put on his clothes on, and closed his eyes, and told himself that he’s allowed to have a breakdown, but later. Later. 

Parnasse was sitting on the bed, on the sheets they stained together, they put on together, they bought together, and he wasn’t watching Jehan. 

And so Jehan put on his shoes, and clenched his teeth, and took his bag, and said, “A gift for you.” And he reached this ugly something that was swirling inside of him, and pulled it, and wished. 

Everything that was his in this flat turned into dust, just like that, all the forgotten t-shirts, a necklace, lyrics he scribbled on the wallpaper here and there. There probably was a lot of dust in the bathroom. Jehan was always kinda surprised by how easy it was. 

“Bye, Parnasse,” he said, and turned around, and closed the door after himself, and went down the stairs, and went out to the grey light of the day. 

His eyes were burning. He was getting out of this city as soon as he could.   



End file.
